


trying to get found (in an ocean of people)

by earnmysong



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8990053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earnmysong/pseuds/earnmysong
Summary: ...You’re still fairly new…” So we forgot about you? Jesus. (How could anyone forget about her?) // Fred and Gunn get to know each other after Pylea (Pre-3.01)





	

**Author's Note:**

> HOW DID I WRITE THIS FIC? I have no answer for that question, friends. I can only say I'm in the middle of a two-week hiatus from work, I binged _Angel_ , and these adorable dorks killed my heart: I’VE NEVER HAD A FRED BEFORE || YOU’RE SO PRETTY. Also: This was essentially written to explain why Fred came out of her room so sporadically for three months. Thank you and goodnight! 
> 
> (The title was changed and is now from Grace VanderWaal's 'I Don't Know My Name'.)

Gunn has never met Buffy. He’s heard enough about her that, under pressure, he could probably piece together the highlights of her life, at least as far as demon counts and encounters with his fly-by-night coworker go, and he might be able to find her in a crowd. It’s horrible that she died, there’s no denying that. The problem is this: everyone, including him until this second, seems to have forgotten the very-much-alive, newly-released-from-hell person they left sitting alone in the lobby.

He’s definitely not the ideal _welcome back to existence_ tour guide but, he thinks, he remembered she exists. That should count for something. 

He finds her doing circles in the swivel chair they keep behind the front desk, knees tucked into her chest, elbows and forearms propelling her around. He’s impressed; he’d have to use his feet for balance or end up on his ass. “Hey,” he offers, the most neutral greeting he can come up with, rainbowing a wave at the last second. “Sorry we all left so fast. It was just a lot of information all at once, she was a friend to most of us, and you’re still fairly new…” _So we forgot about you?_ Jesus. (How could anyone forget about her?)

“I’m used to being by myself,” she reminds him, so matter-of-factly cheerful that he considers hugging her. (Never mind that they’re complete strangers, he’s never been the type to put his emotions on public display, and doing so would most likely terrify her.) “The lighting’s much better here too, which is nice.”

“Want a tour of this place?” He figures movement combined with a ridiculous, yet necessary, direction for conversation might help him continue to interact with her in a normal capacity, lessen the chances that he’ll make an idiot out of himself. (This has never been an issue for him before, not once in his entire life.)

“The hotel or L.A.?” She’s stopped revolving now, stands across from him. From anyone else the question would have a pointed edge, highlighting the open-endedness of what he’d asked her. With Fred, he can see it stems from genuine curiosity. She smiles, answering before he can clarify. “I’m pretty set on the city, thanks. Five years isn’t that long. I’d love to see more of the hotel, though. It looks amazing.”

He stares at her in disbelief and thinks _Are we even in the same place?_. 'Amazing' is about fifty notches better than any way he’d describe where they’re standing. Still, he reasons, if his choices came down to Pylea or here, he’d pick here in a heartbeat. He steers them both in the direction of the stairs, cautioning, “You should wait until you’ve seen everything before you give out compliments.”

\---

“Stupid, ancient crapstack of a building,” Gunn mutters, keeping an arm around Fred and glancing down every few seconds to see how she’s holding up. At the moment, she’s pressing her hands over her ears and has tears welling in her eyes. He gets them downstairs as fast as possible, leaving the shrieking alarms behind to, here’s hoping, blare themselves into silence.

“In all the time I’ve been here, those things have never worked,” he tells her apologetically as soon as they’re outside, ignoring the firemen trying to figure out when the wiring was put in. “You can bet your ass they won’t stay that way…” 

There’s a list forming in his mind already, tools and gloves and heavy-duty headphones, all necessities for his long-unused hobby of dismantling. Maybe he’ll pick up an extra set of noise-cancellers for Fred while he’s at it. The girl’s indestructible, yeah, but she’s also, rightfully, jumpy as hell. “You okay?” She doesn’t respond, so he tries again, this time moving to study her face. “Fred? How you doing in there?” She brings her hands down. In his book, that’s one step closer to answering. “You good?” 

She shakes her head slowly. “Can we go inside now? Inside there are walls, walls that surround you and keep you safe, keep the noise and the people out. Too much noise and too many people,” she pleads.

He can’t hulk out and mow down seven different groups of people to get her back in, no matter how much he wants to. Instead, he settles her on the nearest curb with a _sit tight_ and goes to trade electrical specs for an update from the nearest person in uniform. 

(He’s well aware that it’s only been a minute and a half since they came outside, and that he has no clue about the architectural history of The Hyperion. She’s been through enough to last about four lifetimes, though, and if he has a way to bring her some peace now that she’s back, he’s going to use it.)

\---

_Sorry that took so long, guys,_ the LAFD apologizes, three hours later. Gunn had been informed that, although the department cared deeply about the frame of mind of the citizens they served, they were required to follow procedure and complete their investigation before re-admitting residents. _We had to ensure the structural integrity of the hotel wasn’t compromised. As it turns out, the alarm itself was faulty and went off without cause. You’re free to go back in._

__(During those three hours, he had tried to convince Fred that sitting on a street corner at one on a Saturday morning wasn’t the most exciting pastime. It wasn’t exactly safe, either, but he could handle almost anything that came out of the shadows, and he wanted to avoid making her more on edge than she already was._ _

__He suggested they head to the all-night diner down the street or the 24-hour 7-11 around the corner while they waited, but she vetoed both. Him pointing out that both businesses had solid, reliable walls did nothing to convince her.)_ _

__As soon as Fred’s in the door, she sprints up the stairs. “I like your style,” he says conversationally, as he catches up to her and they climb, together._ _

__Her steps hesitate, and she contemplates the white outfit she’s been wearing since changing out of her detainment uniform in Pylea. “You mean the way I act, not my clothes, right? Because these aren’t my clothes.”_ _

__“Honestly? I didn’t really notice what you’re wearing, so.” He laughs. "You came straight up here, even though it’s where you learned the ins and outs of evacuation at the Hyperion. I like your style.”_ _

__“Oh. Thanks.” She smiles. “I was just looking for a room I could stay in.” Her face falls as she adds, “It could happen again, couldn’t it?”_ _

_Real smart, jackass,_ his mind screams. “No, no it won’t,” he rushes to assure her. “I’ll cut the power to the alarms. We’ll still have smoke detectors to tell us there’s a fire, which is all you really need, and they’re nowhere near as loud if they go off.” 

__He opens the door to the last room on the right. “This can be yours. Although,” he thinks for a second, nods to himself, then finishes, “except for the all-nighters we pull every once in a while, people usually go home after work. So, you can have another one if you like it better.”_ _

__“This is fine,” she promises, passing him to cross the threshold. “More than fine! Do you have a marker, by any chance?”_ _

__“Cordy, or Wes, probably has some lying around the office. I’ll check.” He starts to leave, then stops. “Hey, you want to grab something to eat now that things are straightened out?”_ _

__“I’d rather stay here. If that’s alright?”_ _

__He shrugs. “Sure, no problem. I’m just gonna go make sure we stay noise-free. I’ll be back in a few.”_ _

__She waves before turning to randomly mix the contents of a drawer, holding the lone marker she finds in the air, like she’s Joan of Arc, sword in hand. “See you!”_ _

__\---_ _

When Gunn checks in on Fred again, he brings pancakes. They’re only pancakes because both of them know they’re _supposed_ to be. Fred makes a good show of dousing hers in whipped cream, putting half of one in her mouth, and swallowing. 

__She’s about to do the same with the half that’s left, but he grabs her wrist, pinning her hand lightly against the bedspread. “Please. You don’t have to. I probably poisoned you already as it is.”_ _

__“You don’t know how to cook?” she asks, surprised._ _

__“Does that taste like a pancake to you?” He eyes the charred crescent on her plate with contempt. “Tomorrow, we’ll go out.”_ _

__“Maybe not tomorrow…” she hedges, winding her hair around her finger._ _

__“Whenever you want. I’m always down for food. Oh!” He reaches around to the back pocket of his jeans, pulls out a colorful bouquet of Expo markers. “Pick a color, any color,” he offers, fanning them out in front of her nose. “Wes gave a presentation, planned out battle strategies, re-worked the budget, who knows how he earns his paycheck.” She grabs the red, undoes her crossed legs, scans the wall for her latest equation._ _

__“What’s all this?” He points toward some of the longer lines of letters and numbers, next to which sits an Eleanor Roosevelt quote. He can see, just from puzzling through this small section of her wall, that her mind is a dimension all its own, a place of knowledge, daydreams and, above all, survival._ _

__She launches into a detailed description of her thoughts for him, one he understands maybe twenty words of. He listens to every one of them._ _

__Today, a piece of his life he never knew was missing clicks into place._ _


End file.
